


Course Altered

by 1000PaperCranes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Broken Wands, Charms, Dark Magic, Gen, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts Hospital Wing, Hogwarts Prefects, It's Harry Potter How Would You Even Know Which Characters I Made Up, Madam Pomfrey is Overprotective, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Potions Ingredients, The Prank, Total Lack of Adulting at Hogwarts, What-If, Wizard Candy, Young Death Eaters, werewolf problems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24939880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000PaperCranes/pseuds/1000PaperCranes
Summary: “You know what?” Sirius growled, more literally than he intended, but that happened a lot lately.  “You know what: you want to know so bad?  Touch the knot on the trunk of the whomping willow.”  Sirius swallowed around a sudden dryness in his mouth.  ‘You’ll find what you’re looking for on the other side before dawn.’What if James Potter had been just a little bit slower?*Chapter 9 is a real chapter now!*
Relationships: James Potter & Severus Snape, Remus Lupin & James Potter, Remus Lupin & Severus Snape, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Sirius Black & Severus Snape, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 46
Kudos: 127





	1. Chapter 1

Peter flopped through the portrait hole in front of Sirius, and it took James a second to realize the shorter boy was _dancing_ and that Sirius hadn’t jinxed him to do it. Sirius, in fact, looked quite consternated.

“Oi!” James called out to them, confused and curious.

Sirius’ gaze snapped to him, but Peter continued to wiggle and bounce in front of the fire. Sirius opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Maybe someone else had hexed Peter? “What is with you?” James asked them both.

Peter answered first, bopping excitedly in James’ direction. “Snivvy’s a _goner_ for _sure_ ,” he sing-songed.

Sirius went the color of sour milk, his mouth dropping open.

Every hair on James body stood up.

Recovering almost instantly, Sirius glared at Peter and croaked, “Moony won’t hurt him.”

Shooting to his feet, James was suddenly across the room. “What!” He grabbed Sirius by the shoulders. “What happened?”

Once again, Sirius’ mouth worked soundlessly, while Peter’s sang like a canary. “Sirius told the greasy git how to get past the willow.”

James went cold, clamping hard on Sirius’ upper arms. “You _didn’t_.”

“I—” Sirius swallowed, he began trembling and James squeezed tighter still to make sure his _best friend_ couldn’t get away from his suddenly numb hands. Sirius looked straight into James’ eyes, and he could feel the other boy willing him to believe. “I meant for him to go with us there, in the morning.”

“But you didn’t _say_ that,” Peter crowed.

That seemed to be news to Sirius, whose face collapsed. “I swear I said it,” Sirius whispered faintly. He squeezed his eyes shut. “But now I’m not so sure.”

Bouncing on his toes and watching the two taller boys avidly, Peter chirped, “I am!”

James made a break for the door. He heard Sirius hit the floor as he shoved open the Fat Lady’s portrait with a burst of magic. Diving through the hole, James rolled to his feet and pelted down the corridor. He had to get to Moony first. His feet slapped loudly on the flagstones and echoed down the stairs. He took every shortcut he knew and ignored something sticky thrown by Peeves splattering against his neck, spattering blue down his arm and up the side of his face.

James leapt the last half-dozen stairs to the entrance hall and barreled into the doors. Bursting into the night, he was just in time to see Snape walk under the branches of the frozen willow and disappear. A ringing started in James’ ears, but he pushed it back. He still had a chance: he was running and Snape was not.

Nearing the willow, James summoned a rock from the lake without breaking stride. He threw it, hoping it flew as straight as a quaffle. It did, better even, and landed bang on the knot. Ducking under the branches of the willow, James ignored the stitch that had just pulled into his side. He jumped down into the tunnel and scrambled along after Snape.

James caught sight of tatty, graying robes just as he reached the door at the end of the tunnel. “Snape!” James yelled, trying to warn him, but Snape either didn’t hear, or didn’t care. “Don’t!”

Snape wrenched open the door.

Moony stood on the other side. His hackles raised as he caught site of Snape. He growled more savagely than James could remember.

“MOONY!” James screamed, desperate to stall the werewolf as he powered through the last few feet of tunnel. He was reaching out, just short of grabbing Snape and pulling him away when Moony lunged.

Snape screamed, and there was a horrible crash.


	2. Chapter 2

In the next blink, James found himself bowled to the ground, a happily rumbling werewolf snuffling into his armpit. He grabbed Moony’s ruff with both hands. The air smelled clean, like dirt and sweaty dog, and not like blood.

James lifted his head, looking around for Snape. The other boy was flattened against the door, which had come off its hinges when Moony shouldered past. The door connecting with the tunnel wall, and Snape being shoved into it, must have been the noise. For his part, Snape appeared entirely unharmed, though he was wide-eyed with terror and paler than ever as he stared down at them.

Pulling the wolf protectively against his chest, James watched Snape watch Moony, and tried to catch his breath. Slowly, Snape blinked, then breathed, then tilted his head away from the door. His back and hands remained plastered to the wood, but whether that was wisdom or fear, it did not stop Snape from being _curious_.

Who knew?

Well… in for a penny, in for a pound.

James took a cleansing breath, willing his own panic-stricken heartbeat under control, and transformed. Moony gave a disappointed whine but rubbed his muzzle over the stag’s ruff and smooth throat. With Prongs’ more sensitive ears, the sound of footsteps approaching was suddenly very loud.

Sirius appeared seconds later. Prongs could smell tears as Sirius collapsed to his knees. Sirius buried his face in Moony’s scruff and clutched on with both hands.

“I knew you wouldn’t hurt him,” Sirius mumbled into thick fur. “This is all my fault.”

Moony made a distressed noise in his throat and crawled toward Sirius. Sirius shifted onto his rear and allowed the wolf to shuffle into his lap, as much as the huge creature was able.

No longer weighed down, Prongs rolled over and stood. He backed away, trying to find a place where he could watch Snape and Moony at the same time.

Snape was the first to make any move of consequence. After a very long stretch of staring, with his heart pitter-patting wildly, he slowly unglued from the door. Moony turned an ear in his direction, but otherwise didn’t react, and Snape calmed significantly. If Prongs had thought he was curious before, it was nothing compared to this.

Snape leaned forward and down and closer, then reached slowly towards the cuddling pair. He seemed to think better of his hand, stopping well short of touching Moony. After several long seconds, Snape carefully pulled his arm back and tucked it against his belly. Not a minute later, he was creeping closer, as if drawn by a force greater than himself.

Something crunched under Snape’s foot.

Sirius’ head shot up and his shuttering breaths halted. He and Snape stared at each other.

Prongs could smell that they were both frightened, but Snape seemed to be beyond feeling it. He crouched down, wrapping his arms around his knees. His eyes flicked between Moony and Sirius.

“He likes you?” Snape asked.

Sirius swallowed, but only managed a nod for an answer.

“How did you…” Snape expressed a lot with a roll of his wrist.

Sirius watched him return the hand to its grip on the opposite arm, silently. He seemed to think for a moment, before deciding that the answer to everything was Padfoot.

“ _Oh_ ,” Snape breathed as the giant black dog replaced Sirius. He scuttled backward sharply when Moony gave a delighted wuffle and tried to engage Padfoot in a tumbling canine game. Padfoot seemed torn, needing to watch Snape, but desperately wanting to play with Moony.

Prongs took pity on him, returning to human form.

Snape looked at him with an open expression James had never seen before. He suddenly felt bad for breaking Snape’s nose, and worse because Madam Pomphrey seemed unable to heal it. It hadn’t done Snape’s face any favors. But that wasn’t Remus’ fault, and neither was this.

“Please don’t tell,” James asked.

“I—” Snape glanced at the Moony trying to wrestle Padfoot into the earth. “Someone has to know,” he told James.

“Dumbledore does.”

“Oh.” Snape crouched down again, hugging his knees. He picked up a stick from the ground. “Dumbledore doesn’t like me.”

James didn’t know what to say to that. Dumbledore _didn’t_ like Snape. He sat down in the dirt only two feet from the other boy.

Snape waved the stick in a circle. Shockingly, a few purple sparks puttered out of it. “He caught me first week.” He flicked the stick with purpose at Moony and Padfoot; a dozen or so apple blossoms floated down on the canines. “I _was_ aiming at the back of your head.”

James snorted.

“All I managed was some hot air.”

James remembered that. It had been so bizarre, a hot breeze in the hallway that only he had felt.

“I even broke the stick,” Snape continued, “to prove I couldn’t hurt you. He was mad that I wanted to.”

“Why didn’t you use your wand?”

Snape shrugged. He dragged the stick slowly through the air, making soap bubbles and watching Moony through them.

“Severus?” The name felt strange in his mouth but suddenly James didn’t want to call him anything else. Snape hummed in response. “Does your wand… _work_?”

Snape had lit the tunnel on the way here but watching him cast cute little charms with a stick, James suddenly wondered if Snape had come to face a werewolf without his wand.

Snape reached out his hand towards the corner where the broken door leaned. There was a skittering and a wand jumped out of the shadows into Snape’s grasp. “It doesn’t like me very much.” He handed it to James like it didn’t matter that he was giving his arch nemesis his only weapon.

Maybe he’d rather have the stick.

The wand was worn smooth, only the faintest impression of a patterned handle remained. He could feel where unicorn hair peeked from both ends. “What wood is it?”

“Hazel.”

James was momentarily surprised the wand hadn’t elected to burn him. “Hazel and it doesn’t like you?”

“It was my mother’s first.”

Just as James was about to say… something, he was struck with the horrifying realization that that meant Snape’s own mother had never liked him, either. No wonder Snape was better matched with a random stick than his own wand.

 _No wonder_ he didn’t have any friends.

Snape called Lily Evans his best friend. James could safely say that he did not want any friend that liked him as little as Evans liked Snape. But if that were the nicest anyone had ever been to him; how would he know the difference?

“Severus?” Snape hummed again, and James rummaged through the thousands of questions he wanted answered. Every single one would probably ruin the little truce they had going. “Will you come to Hogsmeade with us tomorrow?”

Moony and Padfoot stopped rolling around on the ground. Moony sat up with a _very_ interested expression on his canine face. At the same time, Snape looked at James as if he had just belched up a fully grown goblin.

James was sure Snape had something pithy to say about his intelligence, or his sanity, or what-have-you, but as much as he was curious about what witty banter with Snape would be like, he didn’t give the other boy a chance to put his foot in his mouth. “I want to apologize, for how badly I’ve treated you. I was wrong about you.” Surely anyone else would have gone screaming for —well, in Snape’s case, probably Slughorn rather than the Headmaster— by now. “I know buying you things doesn’t prove I’m sorry or make up for any of it, but this wand is dying and I’d like to replace it for you to prove that I’m sincere.”

Snape had gone tight about the jaw, but as he thought over James words, his mouth slackened and began to sag open. “You would _arm_ me?”

“Yes.” James had no hesitation about it. He wasn’t stupid; he might not have thought it directly, but he knew how dangerous someone who could do what Snape did so casually with an ordinary stick would be with a true wand in hand. “I mean it. I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me, but I want to level the playing field between us. Being equal is the first step to being trustworthy, and that’s the first step to being friends.”

Snape snorted. “You’re an idiot.” He gave a wry smirk to his knees. “The first step to being trustworthy is to tell the truth and do what you say you will.”

“I can do that if you can,” James offered, suddenly aware that he had always been the one to lie about their various altercations. Even when Snape spoke first, the teachers never believed him.

“I’m not a very good friend,” Snape hedged, watching James as though waiting for the punch line. Or maybe just a punch.

James shrugged. Who could blame him? Snape’s cauldron seemed to be his only real friend. Finally, he said, “We won’t know until we try. Come to Hogsmeade?”

A very long moment passed, convincing James that Snape would decline. “Okay,” he said instead, very quietly.

James grinned and so did Moony. The wolf padded over to Snape, who watched him warily. Moony sniffed Snape’s ears and neck thoroughly, before sneezing at the smell of Snape’s hair. To Prongs, he had smelled strongly of lye soap and faintly of a thousand potions ingredients. The wolf sat down, very close to Snape, and pushed him to the floor with one paw. Then determinedly set to licking Snape’s coated hair clean.

Snape’s face had taken on a rictus lodged somewhere between horror and disgust.

“Social grooming,” James supplied, trying not to laugh. “He likes you.”

Snape looked up at James, face edging toward bewildered. “ _Social **grooming**?”_

“It’s instinct. He can’t help it.”

Padfoot, who had been watching everything with a gimlet eye, approached Snape’s other side. He snuffled Snape’s cheek and down to his fingertips.

“ _He_ can, though,” James said, happily ratting. Padfoot shot him a dirty look. “Padfoot likes his ears scratched.”

Snape just looked confused.

Sirius transformed and flopped onto his butt. He reached out and took Snape’s wand from James. Tapping his fingers on the wood, he looked it over for a very long time. “Where’s Wormtail?”

James wasn’t really surprised that Peter hadn’t come running to a fight between him, Snape, and a werewolf. If Sirius’ scowl was anything to go by, he was very concerned about the location of the fourth Marauder. “Why?”

Sirius didn’t answer. He just kept turning Snape’s wand over and over in his hands.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning dawned steely and cold. The snow that had started to fall as James, Sirius, and Snape walked back to the school at moonset was now thick on the ground. Peter had been asleep in bed when they returned and still was. They left him there.

James and Sirius did not talk about the previous night as they made their way down to breakfast at first light. They walked in silence. They ate in silence.

“Do you think this is a good idea?” Sirius finally asked as they climbed the stairs back to Gryffindor tower.

“You sent him to meet Moony, _alone_ , and you’re worried that trying to be his friend is a _bad_ idea?”

Sirius stopped in the middle of the hallway. “I swear, James, I _swear_ …” 

There was a part of James, just above his navel, that was burning furiously, but the part of him that understood when Sirius was telling the truth won out. “Well, at least you were right that Moony wouldn’t hurt him.” James did not point out how terrified Sirius had been last night.

Or how vicious Moony had looked when he set eyes on Snape.

“I was… but the more excited Peter got about… _that_ , the more I worried it would happen.” Sirius picked at his fingers. “It was a long walk.”

“Moony may have understood, but Remus probably won’t.”

“I know.” Sirius ran his hand along the frosted glass of a window on the fifth floor. “It was stupid.”

Really, _really,_ **_stupid_**. James swallowed back the tightness in his jaw. Anger would not help.

Unless Remus wanted him to be angry; then it would help.

Sirius stopped and turned in the direction of the infirmary, as if he could see through the walls all the way to Remus. “I know we have to tell him… but… do we have to tell him right now?”

“He’ll know something’s up.” James put a hand on Sirius’ shoulder, grip a little too firm to be comforting. “He might even remember.”

Sirius chewed his lip. “Can we wait until he _asks?”_

“…Yeah.” Heading down the west corridor, James added, “But no pretending to misunderstand when he does.”

Sirius didn’t answer, but James could hear the soft tapping of his shoes on the flagstones. They were silent, again. Sirius got slower and slower as they approached the infirmary, but he didn’t seem about to turn tail, so James allowed it. 

They pushed open the doors to the Hospital Wing.

The infirmary was quiet and still but glowing with the light of the morning sun blazing in from the high windows on the far side of the room. Remus was asleep in the second bed, a soft, sweet smile dozing on his mouth. Even in sleep, Remus hadn’t looked like that in a long time. James felt sick that they were going to have to ruin it.

They sat by the bedside and waited, silently. James passed the time carefully picking the blue gunk off his neck and face. It had hardened overnight and refused to come off in the shower. Damn Peeves. Persistent and precise application of fingernails was slowly coaxing it away from his skin, but it refused to let go of the hair on his arm. He was either going to have to wait for it to fall off or give in and rip the hair out. He was working on a particularly stubborn glob in the corner of his ear when Remus shifted.

James’ insides bunched up tight. Remus’ honey brown eyes traveled warmly over him, and James felt like his bones were wilting. 

Sirius seemed to experience the opposite effect. He stood gracefully and stepped over to Remus with all the stiffness of a pureblood son. He sat on the edge of the bed, carefully checking the bandages on Remus’ forearm. The only thing that gave him away was that they _knew_ him.

“Sirius?”

Always susceptible to that tone, Sirius locked eyes with Remus. 

“What’s wrong?”

Mouth working silently, it took Sirius a long time to answer. “Just worried about you.” Which was true, if a little off the mark. “It was a… weird night.”

Remus chuckled drowsily. “I’m a werewolf, who’s going to hurt me?”

Sirius didn’t seem to find it funny. He curled over, hugging Remus, who hugged back and allowed Sirius to hide his face. 

The ensuing minutes were warm and easy, but James still felt the nervous twanging in his ears. No amount of snuggling was going to keep Remus from finding out what Sirius did. If nothing else, James would tell him everything. They should probably inform the Headmaster, too, but it was only fair to warn Snape before then.

“Why was Snape there?” Remus asked in his most unobtrusive voice.

“My fault.” Sirius burrowed into Remus’ shoulder. “’M sorry.”

It was technically the truth. James considered the two of them: Remus so drowsy and comfortable, Sirius contrite and hiding. Maybe Remus really didn’t need the details, _yet_.


	4. Chapter 4

With nothing else to do after Madam Pomfrey kicked them out of the hospital wing, James and Sirius went to the entrance hall to wait for Snape. It would be hours before Filch showed up with his scroll of names, but the Marauders hardly worried about checking out, their permission slips had been signed for years and they had yet to find out why there _was_ a list, beyond making sure that younger years didn’t sneak into town.

They sat at the bottom of the grand staircase. Silence quickly fell between them, again, as they waited.

Snape often left for Hogsmeade early enough to catch the shops opening and was even sometimes returning to the school as the Marauders were on their way down. That probably had a lot to do with _avoiding_ the Marauders…

Occasionally, Snape would reappear in Hogsmeade in the afternoon accompanying Lily Evans. It had happened more when they were younger, but every day that passed saw Evans spending more and more time with some combination of Marlene McKinnon, Emmeline Vance, Dorcas Meadowes, and Mary Macdonald, and less and less time with Snape. Not that she had ever spent that much time with him to begin with. Maybe in first year, when she was still too young and raw for Dorcas to pay attention to, and Mary had cried herself homesick all the time.

James imagined Snape with his crooked birch twig conjuring tiny diamond birds to flutter and chirp around the common room fire, and how it would have made weepy little Mary smile… If James had said hello instead of being a jerk. Their first encounter on the train came stampeding back, a memory James had forgotten by the end of his first week, but now was vivid in his minds eye.

Methodically, James ripped each blue blob, and the hairs it was attached to, from his arm.

The sun rose higher in the sky and the Great Hall was nearly filled to bursting with excited Saturday students when James pulled the last blue blob from his elbow. _Finally._ The nerves in his arm were twinging strangely, but it was done.

He felt a crackle of magic in the air and looked up. Next to him, Sirius collapsed. Across the hall were Avery and Mulciber, laughing. _Those idiots_. Snape stood, indecisive, at the top of the stairs to the dungeons. _Not his fault_ , James reminded himself, though it was hard not to assume the involvement of their arch nemesis. _Former arch nemesis._ It was almost a reflex, like drawing his wand and jumping to his feet had been. James glared at Avery and Mulciber as much as at himself.

“Does he always faint when he sees a handsome man?” Avery called, preening ridiculously. 

Mulciber guffawed. “Oh, dear me, I’m Sirius Black, and me heart’s all a twitter for the gorgeous Slytherins. I was such a fool to be a Gryffindor.” He fawned dramatically.

“Move, Sev.” The quiet voice of Gideon Nott went unnoticed by Avery and Mulciber. The seventh year walked up quietly behind the to wannabe death eaters as they paid each other outrageous, flowery compliments. “Do you two idiots need a map to the Great Hall?” Avery and Mulciber cringed. “Or are you waiting for an engraved invitation?”

“Aw, come on, Nott. It was just a bit a fun.” Well, at least Mulciber, who was as large and lumpy as a stone wall, was afraid of _someone_.

Gideon did not look convinced. “It’s a bit of fun you’re glad I didn’t see, or it would be a bit of Flich’s office.” He pushed them towards the Great Hall with a wave of his wand. “In.”

“Thomas is so much more fun than you,” Avery whined.

“My brother’s not here. Get used to disappointment.” Gideon ignored further rude cajoling from the two and pierced Snape with a look over his shoulder. _Fix that,_ he mouthed.

Once they were gone, Snape didn’t move. He waited nearly a full minute before slinking across the entrance hall. He stopped and examined Sirius with a gimlet eye. “Do you know what they did?” he murmured, crouching down and drawing his wand.

“I felt something, but I didn’t see it.” James offered his wand.

Snape raised a brow.

James jiggled the wand. “It’s mahogany; it won’t bite.”

With a suspicious twist of his mouth, Snape held out his own wand in exchange. James took it and tried not to analyze the squirming of his insides when Snape’s stained fingers wrapped around the hilt of his wand.

“Finite?” James suggested.

“No.” Snape ran the mahogany wand over Sirius from head to toe. His wrist went lax and his eyes flicked, as if reading something very complex in the middle distance. A minute later he came back to himself, pointing the wand at Sirius’ throat. “ _Onbeperkt_.”

Sirius heaved in a great lungful of air and started to cough. His eyes fluttered, and he rolled towards James. 

Snape waved the wand over Sirius. “ _Zuivering Verwijderen_.” The wand passed back and forth, and Snape chanted, “ _Zuivering Verwijderen, Zuivering Verwijderen._ ” Slowly Sirius began to shiver, then relax, and finally opened his eyes. He lay there panting, staring up at James, for what felt a very long time.

Sirius licked his lips and swallowed a grimace. “What happened?” he croaked.

“Mulciber and Avery.” James accepted his wand back from Snape without looking away from Sirius’ eyes. “Severus saved you.”

“Snape?” Sirius rolled onto his back until he could see the Slytherin. “Oh.”

“Gideon Nott told me to.” Snape sat tailor style on the floor.

James passed Snape’s wand back. 

Sirius eyed the wand as it traveled over his face, then gave James a loopy grin. “I suppose I’ll be dying any second.”

Snape scowled.

“What Sirius means is he feels better, thank you.” James pinched Sirius’ stomach. He did not need to be making things harder.

“Actually,” Sirius clarified, smiling at Snape, “I feel like I’ve been choked out by a troll. Thank you.”

Snape didn’t answer, squinting at them like they’d been speaking German.

“Alright, alright,” Sirius waved off the look and heaved himself up to sitting. “Why don’t we—whoa!” He swooned, crashing right into James’ lap.

“Wha-? Sirius!”

“I’m okay,” Sirius’ muffled voice told them. “Just gonna stay here for a second.” Unsure what to do with his hands, James began scratching the back of Sirius’ head. “Feels nice. Give you all day to stop doing that.” Snape prodded Sirius with the blunt end of his wand, an overly studious look on his face. “Alright, alright.” Sirius flapped his free hand at him, using the other to slowly push himself out of James lap. “I’m up.”

And this time, he stayed up. Barely. Sirius was ashy white, veins standing out blue and bloodless beneath his skin.

“Maybe you should go to the hospital wing, Sirius,” James suggested.

Sirius shook his head then had to grab onto James shoulder to stay vertical.

A paper plane zoomed out of the Great Hall, landing primly on Snape’s palm. It had several slices of streaky bacon in it. Handing the bacon to Sirius, Snape read the note. “That’s what I thought it was.” He snapped his fingers, incinerating the note. “We can pick some prunella and mint in greenhouse two and you can chew on that.”

“Aren’t you going to eat?” James asked, taking the excursion to the greenhouses as indication that Snape was indeed coming with them to Hogsmeade.

Snape shook his head. “Already did.” 

They waited for Sirius to slowly choke down the bacon. “It’s like eating glass.” Sirius eyed the last piece as if it had wronged him, but his color was improving. He ate it with even less enthusiasm than he had for studying divinations.

“Mind him,” Snape said about Sirius, standing straight up from the floor. He turned his back on them just in time for Bertram Aubrey to rush down the stairs and into the Great Hall. It was probably good that he hadn’t seen Snape with them, as much time as he spent whispering with Mulciber and Rosier. Avery, for whatever tiny amount of sense he had, didn’t seem to like the Ravenclaw sixth year. Snape didn’t like him either.

A glowing review if James ever heard one.

When Aubrey was well out of sight, James hauled Sirius to his feet. With arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, they shuffled out into the snow. Snape plowed along ahead of them, leading the way to the greenhouses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was kinda short, so here's another one a bit early. I'm struggling with these in-between bits, guys. Any and all input is helpful and welcome!


	5. Chapter 5

Sirius pulled a face. “This stuff just started to taste like eel beans.”

“Spit it out,” Snape said absently, watching a northern gannet fly over. He was making a concentrated effort to stay well out of arms reach and neither ahead nor behind, all while seeming uncannily unconcerned with their presence.

He didn’t trust them.

He wasn’t the only one. This was the right thing to do. But Snape had a mean quicksilver temper and had been known to attack even his fellow Slytherins from behind.

That… _might_ be a lie. 

James himself had only seen Snape attack someone from behind once: his wand arm had been cut down to the bone and hanging uselessly when he had done it. The lightning spell had knocked Evan Rosier to the floor, but he had gotten up unharmed a minute later. Snape had been in bandages for weeks. 

_“I even broke the stick, to prove I couldn’t hurt you.”_

“Why did Evan Rosier try to cut your arm off?” James really should have thought that through before he said it. He probably shouldn’t have said it all. Rosier had probably deserved it. Kid was a piece of work. When did James’ mouth get so far ahead of his brain?

“Don’t know.” Snape kicked a large clump of snow that turned out to be a small juniper bush.

“You don’t _know?_ ” Sirius stopped in his tracks. “How could you not know what you did that made someone so mad they wanted to _cut off your arm?_ ”

“Because I hadn’t talked to Rosier in a week?” Snape growled, snapping a twig from a dormant birch. “I got a week’s worth of detentions for dueling in the common room. I was writing a bloody essay when Rosier attacked me.”

“ _Did_ you duel him?” James honestly could not tell if Sirius was curious or trying to get under Snape’s skin.

“He ran.” Snape turned, directing a gust of wind behind them that erased their tracks. “I chased him up the stairs into the entrance hall.”

“And hexed him.” Sirius flicked his wand, sending a few silver sparks popping in the air.

Snape just shrugged. He spun around, stepped up onto the top of the snow, and strode towards town with purpose. James and Sirius lagged behind, trudging through six inches of frozen precipitation. 

“We’re supposed to be making him feel like he can trust us, not interrogating him.” James punched his best friend’s shoulder, stinging his own hand with the cold. He quickly crammed his hand back in his pocket.

“I wasn’t trying to— You know what?” Sirius stomped through the snow. “Maybe we should just let him tell us how he feels.”

That stung. Not just because Sirius was _right_ , but because Snape _wouldn’t_. James lifted his feet high, clomping along at what passed for a jog. “Sirius.” He grabbed the taller boy by the arm. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just don’t want to screw this up before we even get a chance. He doesn’t trust us.”

“Do _you_ trust _him?_ ”

“We kind of have to.”

Sirius didn’t have anything to say to that. Fortunately, they soon reached the edge of the village. 

Hogsmeade was quiet this early. A few residents were bustling to their shops, keen to be ready for the onslaught of students later in the morning. Abilene Vandercliff was the only other student in sight, hugging her broom and counting the coins in her purse outside Tomes and Scrolls. The wand shop was just off the High Street at the top of town. As they made their way, Aiko Ryu came out of Tails and Trails broomstick in hand and with a black kitten peeking out of her hood.

“That girl is going to be the next Aine Darwin,” Sirius whispered after she had passed.

“No kidding. I wonder what the kitten is for.” James turned around to ask her, but Snape had beat him to it.

“Oh, this is Jiji. She’s a forest coon.” Aiko proudly handed the kitten to Snape. “She’s going to help me train dragons.”

“Train dragons?” Snape scratched the kitten’s tiny ears.

“Well…” Aiko allowed the kitten to climb onto her shoulder. “Tame them. A little. I don’t think dragons are as wild and unpredictable as people believe.”

“Most things aren’t.”

She beamed at Snape. “No, they’re not. Y’know, you’re alright Snape.” And then she mounted her broom and kicked off, kitten sitting on her shoulder like a diminutive emperor as she skimmed down the unplowed streets.

“C’mon,” James said. “The wand shop is over here.” The wandmaker was near the top of town. It looked closed, but the sign in the window waved at them, pointing to the door handle. With an amused shrug, Sirius wrenched the door open, leading the way inside.

The tallow lamps burned low but filled the front of the shop with a welcoming bronze glow that almost reached the corners and rafters. The shop was empty of people, not even a clerk greeted them. There was, however, a bell on the counter. A good enough place to start. Before Sirius could ring it, James stopped him, nodding behind them.

Snape hovered awkwardly in the doorway. James waved him closer, but Snape just shook his head, shrinking against the doorjamb. Looking ashamed, he muttered, “I can’t do this. I can’t afford this.”

James knew very well that Snape couldn’t afford a new wand, or he wouldn’t be using _sticks_. James and Sirius shared an experienced look. They went back to the door and formed a huddle with Snape.

“I know you can’t,” James confessed quietly. He continued before a truly wicked glare could settle on Snape’s face, “You need a wand, and I need to make restitution.”

“This isn’t about the money,” Sirius said quietly when Snape stayed curled in on himself. “Remus felt the same way, still does sometimes.” Sirius bit his lip, and James knew he was worried about how Remus would feel if he were here, now. “You have time, right?” He waited until Snape understood the question was not rhetorical and nodded. “If someone you cared about needed help and your time would help them, you’d give them that?” Snape though for a moment, before nodding hesitantly. Satisfied, Sirius concluded, “Well, we have money, and buying something will help you; it’s the same thing.”

“But… you don’t care about me.”

“Right now, I do,” James said, “And sometimes, just wanting to help is enough.”

It was plain on Snape’s face that both concepts were totally alien to him. “What’s in if for you?”

“For me?” James blinked. 

They weren’t talking about recompence and wands anymore. Snape really did not understand how kindness and apologies worked. He was always apologizing to Evans, but if James had to guess, Snape thought begging someone to stay your friend every other week was the normal tax of friendship. Dear Merlin. He probably viewed giving gifts as some sort of holiday toll, too. Which admittedly, it was, but… there were other reasons to give gifts.

James decided that was all rather too much for a huddle in the doorway of a shop. He brought the conversation back around to where it began. “Can’t getting a chance to prove I’m sorry be enough for now?”

Snape chewed on his lip, eyes flicking over the middle distance as he pondered and processed. Finally, he gave a short, hesitant nod.

James stepped aside, pretending happy confidence when all he felt was a growing pit in his conscience. He tipped his head towards the red-haired man that had appeared at the counter and was pretending not to watch them. Snape wavered when he saw the man, but then walked towards the service counter. He folded his hands demurely and avoided eye contact.

“How can I help you?” the man said, acting for all the world like he didn’t already know why they were there.

“I need a new wand,” Snape mumbled.

“Ah! You’ve come to the right place.” The man spread his hands, welcoming the entire store to the conversation. “I’m Caduceus Spriggs and this is my Shop of Wands. The wands here are all handmade and crafted from the finest magic the world over.” Caduceus Spriggs lowered his arms, leaning conspiratorially towards Snape. “Say, what happened to your old wand?”

Snape produced the wand from his robes meekly but did manage to meet the shop keep’s eyes. He looked to James like he was begging lenience for the sorry state of his wand.

Spriggs frowned at the worn old wand. He took it with care, turning it over, examining it. With a cloth from the counter, he polished it. “I daresay you could do some blunt spells with this,” Spriggs said charitably, waving Snape’s wand about willy-nilly in the air. “How are your grades, lad?”

Snape shrugged. “Good, except for transfigurations.”

“Severus is a genius in potions,” James interrupted without thinking. Snape went rigid.

“Tricky, tricky,” Spriggs tisked. “Potioneers are always difficult. Not really fond of wands, the whole lot of them.” He puttered off into the dim shelves, chattering loudly to his stock. “Up, up, up! Come now, you little devils, who’s interested?” The quiet bumping and shuffling of a few small boxes answered him. “Cherry? No, no; he’s a bit scruffy for you. Someone else first. Ah!”

Snape had wilted with embarrassment at being called scruffy, but it was hardly an unfair assessment. He had the look of someone who was allergic to soap, though Prongs’ nose had proven that assumption wrong. Today, he was wearing his best robes, a school set that were probably only new to him last year; the hem was deliberately fallen to make them longer, the elbows were darned along with a dozen other places. His cloak was threadbare, and James couldn’t say for certain that it had ever been made for winter.

Spriggs returned from the stacks holding a powder blue box. “Here we go, sonny. Willow and phoenix feather; cast something. Ah—” He held up a hand, stopping Snape before he had raised the wand. “Something gentle lad, it’s rather small in here.”

Snape’s crestfallen face smoothed out, and he nodded. “ _Papilio plurimus_.” Two dozen monarchs erupted from the tip of the wand.

Spriggs grinned. “Well, that wasn’t quite right, was it?” It had looked brilliant to James, but Snape set the wand back in its box as Spriggs went off again.

“Come on, come on. Don’t be shy. Look at all these pretty butterflies.” Spriggs walked around the end of a row. “Don’t you want to see what he can do?” An intricately patterned box slid itself off the top shelf, dropping neatly into the shop keep’s hands. “Thank you.”

He came back to the counter. “Cedar and Occamy shell. Made during my apprenticeship in Panam.” 

Visibly thinking up a good spell, Snape gave the wand a swish. “ _Narukane._ ” The sound of wind chimes filled the shop. Even James could tell that they were slightly out of tune.

“Closer,” Spriggs praised, heading back down the isle. “Who’s next, who’s next?” More boxes bustled for attention. “You think so, eh? Well, any chance is a good chance.” He came back with a faded orange box. “Dogwood and Phoenix feather.”

Upon touching the wand, Snape gave it a very funny look. His expression resolved into determination. “ _Nebulus_.” 

A thunderstorm erupted from the wand. It swirled around the ceiling, lumpy, gray, and angry, throwing bolts of lightning in every direction. Snape stood frozen.

James and Sirius dove under the window display. A bolt of lightning struck where they had been standing and another hit the table above them with a searing _CRACK!_

James covered his head with his arms. “WE HAVE TO DO SOMETHING!” Sheets of rain lashed at his ankles and the tablecloth snapped against the backs of his legs, quickly tearing itself to shreds and drowning out his voice. Pulling out his wand, James wiggled it in front of Sirius’ face. 

Doing his best to shield his head and ears with only one arm, Sirius drew his wand as well. “TOGETHER?” He shouted over the howling wind. Unable to look out into the driving rain, they both pointed their wands blindly towards the ceiling. “One, two, three!”

 _“FINITE!”_ they bellowed.

The storm vanished, leaving a dripping silence it its wake.

“VILE PRANKSTER!” Caduceus Spriggs roared, snatching the wand from Snape’s hand. James and Sirius scrambled out from under the table. James wasn’t sure how he felt about the unexpected maelstrom, but he was not going to let anyone scream at his friend.

Spriggs shook the wand violently. “Think you’re funny, do you!” James and Sirius stopped short; it wasn’t every day you saw a grown man yell at a fancy stick. “I’ve got half a mind to turn you into an oversized perch for the next owl I see!” Spriggs stomped into the back of the shop, shouting abuse. “You’d make a fine addition to a circus; maybe I’ll trade you for a string of jackalope antlers! You’re lucky he didn’t try to put that out, could have blown you in half, you stupid—” 

SLAM!

Seconds later, Spriggs reappeared, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “Put him in the steamer,” he declared brightly, breezing back into the stacks. The boxes rattled and bounced for attention. “Oh, look at you all. Clamoring for attention, _powerful wizard_ in the shop. Pish tosh.” He waved the boxes back onto the shelf. “Alright, Cherry, you might be right. He’s still scruffy, though.” Spriggs finally took the dusky pink box down from the shelf. “Eh, I’ll smarten him up myself, if I have to,” he mumbled, jumping down from the ladder.

James and Sirius backed up, giving Snape plenty of room to cast the next spell with Cherry and dragon heartstring.

“ _Assicco calor_.” In seconds, the room was shimmering with sweltering heat. 

“ _Good Lord_ ,” Spriggs groaned, fanning himself. “Did you mean it to be so intense?”

“Not… really?” Snape cocked his head. “I just wanted to get us dry.”

“Well, that will work.” Spriggs grinned. “So long as the place doesn’t burst into flames.” He beckoned Snape to return the wand. “We’ll find you the right wand today, but if you ever need another, come back for this one. He’s a little overpowered for you, just yet.” Picking up the pink box, Spriggs went back up the isle. 

Sliding the box back into place, he muttered, “Sorry, Cherry. I told you he was scruffy.”

If Snape ever became an Animagus, James would be sure to name him Scruffy.

While Spriggs roamed the isles taunting his wands, Snape flipped his head towards the floor and began tousling his hair with his cloak. James own much shorter hair was already dry, and his robes felt quite claggy as the soakage evaporated both inwards and outwards. They did need to get dry, though, before going back out into the frozen morning, so he kept his discomfort to himself.

Spriggs voice drifted to them from what must have been the very farthest corner of the store. “Finally interested in someone, you old fussbudget? About time. Out you come.” 

Snape righted himself hastily. The tips of his hair quickly curled in the Saharan air. James smirked. Who knew Snape could be so… normal?

“You must be a very interesting young man indeed to get the attention of _this_ wand.” Spriggs presented the handle of the wand to Snape with a flourish. “He’s been pouting on the bottom shelf back there for _years_. Like it’s not his own fault.”

A breeze wafted past James, filling the shop with the scent of salt-sea air. The dankness immediately went out of his robes. Next to him, Sirius was ruffling his own hair, looking a bit baffled. James poked him, nodded at Snape, and they shared a wicked grin.

The constant clattering of wand boxes was gone.

“Ha _HA!”_ Spriggs crowed.“Flake sycamore, Galapagon feather, thirteen and one-third inches, resilient. Oh, and it _likes_ you dear boy. Bring it here, bring it here. Let’s ring you up.” He placed the wand back in its padded box with a new silk cleaning cloth. The register chimed and Spriggs silently took the twenty-seven galleons from James without the slightest hesitation. The wandsmith _definitely_ knew what they had been talking about in his front window.

James and Sirius thanked Caduceus Spriggs and pulled Snape, who seemed to be in a state of shock, out of the store.


	6. Chapter 6

Sirius suddenly burst with brightness. “I need a haircut.” He linked elbows with Snape and started across the newly shoveled street. “C’mon!”

James followed them, deeply unsure about Sirius’ plan. 

Ahead, Snape clearly was not anymore confident, stumbling and trying to pull away from the taller boy. He finally got free about ten feet from Snips and Nails. “I don’t want some deviant cutting me up!” Snape took a fighting stance, feet spread wide on the icy cobblestones, hunching against his fear. Snow swirled ominously around his fists.

“Sirius Black! You leave him alone!”

 _Not **now**_. James ran to intercept Lily Evans, hoping he didn’t wipeout on the slick street. He put himself bodily between Evans and his friends. Sirius was on his own.

“Hey, Evans,” James said as smoothly as he could around the lungs crawling up into his throat.

“Get out of the way!” Evans tried to push him aside, but James dodged and kept in front of her.

“I hear you’ve got a crush on Frank.” James spread his arms, skipping to the right to keep Evans from going around him. “Alice Brightwork won’t like that.”

“Move!”

“Why don’t we move right to Madam Puddifoot’s?” James tried to link arms with Evans and steer her away from his friends. “Show Alice and Frank that you’re not trying to break them up, yeah?”

Lily avoided his grasp. She feinted left and darted right, but James was ready for it and danced backwards, keeping his place between Evans and his friends.

A blue charm shot over his shoulder, stopping Evans cold. James blinked at her; she was shivering and hugging herself as though she been suddenly dunked in the frigid lake waters. He turned to see Frank Longbottom steadily observing Sirius and Snape as he returned his wand to his sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius edged closer to Snape. “Severus, really. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’m just… _trying_.”

“Trying to kill me!” Snow swirled around all of Snape now.

Sirius edged into the icy wind. “No. No, I promise.” He crowded ever closer to the slightly hysterical boy. “I just thought… Well, I _didn’t_ think at all about someone coming at me from behind with… _sharp things_.”

The wind began to lessen, the snow once again falling down, if a little to the left.

“C’mere.” Sirius carefully took one of Snape’s fists in gentle hands. “Let’s go to the Three Broomsticks and warm up.”

“Black is buying!” Frank burst into the moment with false levity. He marched up the street, wrapped his arm around Snape’s waist —which was allowed with a tiny, amused smile— and hauled him off towards the pub, grabbing James by the elbow as he passed. “Sorry, Lily!” he called over his shoulder, “Should wear off in a couple minutes!”

Sirius caught up to them a few seconds later. “You did that? Thanks.”

“No problem.” Frank grinned and James was suddenly struck by how handsome the tall seventh year was. “Does Lily really have a crush on me?” He seemed to think that would be funny.

“Uh—” James’ voice cracked, and he quickly coughed it clear. “I don’t know. Maybe I heard that somewhere, but I thought I was making it up.”

“Are you sure you weren’t projecting?” Sirius asked right in James’ ear.

James shoved him into a snow drift.

When James resumed his place, Frank looked at him kindly, taking in his lingering blush with an understanding smile. “No, thanks,” he said gently.

“Yeah, I know.” The snow accumulating on James shoulders suddenly needed to be brushed off, which he did with gusto. “I’ll get over it as fast as I got it.”

“ _You_ like _boys?_ ” Snape said from Frank’s other side. For a moment, James had almost forgotten he was there.

“Sometimes,” James said. Frank just now, Gideon Prewett in first year… and Remus immediately after a transformation, for some reason.

Sirius caught up to them then and pulled open the door of the Three Broomsticks. Frank lead Severus to the back of the pub, near the fire. James and Sirius headed towards the bar.

“Do you think Snape likes butterbeer?”

Sirius thought about it for a second. “Doesn’t everyone? But let’s get some hot chocolate, too. I’ve seen Frank drink that sometimes.” They ordered two warm butterbeers and two hot chocolates, paid, and thanked Rosmerta.

“I thought she did really well on her NEWTs.” Sirius shot a glance over his shoulder. “Why do you think she’s still working here?”

James shrugged, dropping gratefully into his seat. “Maybe she likes it.”

“I don’t know, Frank,” Snape said, stretching his hands and feet a little closer to the fire.

“Aw, c’mon,” the bigger, older boy wheedled like a first year, “Let me see it.”

Snape smiled to himself, apparently liking Frank’s brand of attention when he seemed to barely tolerate it from anyone else. He pulled the wand box from the large pocket of his robe.

“Still in the box?” Frank gave him a funny look.

Snape flushed. “There’s a hole in my pocket.”

“Ah.” Frank grinned. “Well, get it out and I’ll show you how to fix your pocket.”

James hadn’t thought Snape would be eager to learn a mending spell, but he was. Snape quickly opened the lavender box and pulled out his brand-new wand.

“Okay,” Frank began, “Where’s the hole?” Snape easily put four of his fingers through the bottom of his pocket. He wiggled them sheepishly at Frank. “Wow, okay.” Snape moved his fingers and Frank touched his wand to the fabric. “ _Consuo consarcio.”_ The tip of his wand bobbed with tiny, precise flicks as if directing an invisible needle: a black thread began to run itself in an overhand stitch along the tear. “Now, you try.”

Snape touched his wand to the fabric with great concentration. “ _Consuo consarcio.”_ His thread was thicker and two shades too light; the stitches were wobbly, but he was doing it. And doing it better by the second. Good for him.

Quickly, though, James was distracted by the wand. He hadn’t gotten a good look at it back in the shop. No wonder it had been so expensive. The wood was a handsome, pale ale color with a glowing beeswax finish, but the grain… the grain was spectacular. Hundreds of freckles of blonde grain covered the wood, all of remarkably similar size and even distribution. The wand had no handle that James could see, and it tapered evenly along the entire length. It was gorgeous, and if James were not so fond of his own, he would be jealous.

And then there was the core. Galapagons were only the rarest dragons on Earth. Not to mention incredibly illusive and protected by a dozen treaties. James didn’t even know they _had_ feathers. Oh, wait, maybe they did. Sleek iridescent eye-feathers… on their crests? Or was it tails? Both?

“Hey, James, Sirius!” Peter sat down in the chair that had automatically walked over for him. “Frank.”

“Hi, Peter,” James answered, glancing warily between him and Snape.

“So, Snivellus,” Peter sneered, “survived your snooping, did you?”

THWACK!

Peter was suddenly on the floor. 

“IT’S NOT FUNNY!” Sirius shrieked. “I wasn’t trying to do that!”

He stood with his fists clenched, looming over Peter, seething through his teeth as he tried to blink the fury from his eyes. Sirius, without any hesitation or warning, had punched Peter in the jaw. In a flurry of robes and tears, Sirius fled. He bumped into people and tables, tripped on chairs and sodden boots, crashed into the double doors of the pub, and disappeared out into the gray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having a really bum day. Hope y'all are doing well. Stay safe and do something that makes you smile.


	7. Chapter 7

The outburst got their table a series of expressive stares, but the Three Broomsticks was hardly unfamiliar with teenage outbursts. After a few moments of stunned silence, whispers broke out and the room quickly began building back toward its normal hubbub.

“What was that about?” Frank asked, bewildered.

Turning around just in time to see Snape whisper in his ear, James’ heart bashed into his lungs. 

Frank’s face went suddenly hard, and as soon as Snape leaned back, he stood so sharply his chair fell over. With a slash of his wand, Frank immobilized Peter —who was just beginning to pick himself up— and levitated him out of the pub without so much as a backward glance.

Rosmerta arrived then, bearing a tray of woolen mugs. “To-Goat Cups.” Her smile was so strained that it somehow succeeded in making her momentarily unattractive. “No need to return them.”

“Thank you,” James said, subdued. Rosmerta left with a nod and another beauty-lessening smile.

James looked at the mugs, with their mitten handles and porcelain rims and wondered how things went so wrong so quickly.

“She thinks…” Snape trailed off, clearly unsure how to interpret Rosmerta and the To-Goat Cups.

“That we’re going to go after Sirius.” James looked at Snape, _Severus_ , pleadingly. “I want to. Please come.”

A long moment passed before Severus gave a decisive nod. He placed his new wand behind his ear and picked up the butterbeers. He stood and waited for James to do the same. They left in silence.

It took them the best of an hour to find Sirius hiding behind a snow-filled planter on one of the residential streets several blocks from the Three Broomsticks. He was shuttering with cold and the occasional sob. Snape hung back, but James cleared a spot for his steaming mugs on the planter and crowded Sirius into the corner it made with the fence.

Sirius tried to shrink away, but he was trapped. James reached for him, offering a hug. Sirius latched onto him, muffling a pathetic sniffle in James shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he chanted, rocking and clinging. James could feel the stickiness on Sirius’ cheeks be replaced with hot, new tears. 

Shuffling closer, James ignored the freezing melt soaking through to his knees in favor of resting his cheek on Sirius’ head. “I believe you,” he murmured. “I believe you.”

“I— I— I just wanted S-snape to s-stop trying to…to get Moony in _trouble_ ,” Sirius moaned. “It wasn’t a—a— _a_ _joke!_ ” Burying his face in James chest muffled a wail. “I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry. I didn’t mean to r-risk Remus. I _didn’t_.”

The delicate chink of breaking china stole James’ attention. He looked over to see one of the To-Goat Cups pouring butterbeer into the cobblestones over a chipped rim. Snape’s hand, and face, had gone bloodless. He carefully placed the remaining mug of butterbeer on the edge of the planter, then promptly collapsed. It seemed knowing Remus was the werewolf and hearing it confirmed were two vastly different things.

“Please!” Sirius reached out, trying to scramble over to Snape, but James held him tight. “P-please, Severus. M-moony’s never tried to hurt any-anyone. I didn’t want him to… I’d never want him to… not you, not _anybody_.”

Not least because it would break Remus. 

Snape’s only response was to fist both hands in his hair. Sirius laid his ear on James’ shoulder and watched their maybe-friend, silent except for breaths that were long and juddering in both directions.

James thought about last month, about how hard they had had to fight to get Moony away from Daisy, Hagrid’s giant Newfoundland Malamute cross, before their roughhousing woke the keeper of keys. Hagrid had come out to investigate anyway, only to be chased around his hut in his bare feet and nightshirt by a howling werewolf. Prongs had been terrified, but maybe Sirius was right. Moony could easily have caught Hagrid if he’d wanted to. 

Werewolves didn’t really seem the type to play with their food.

A waxwing was hopping about, eating berries from the holly bush behind the fence. James watched it as he combed his deer-fogged memories of Moony. They had had another close call with Rosmerta putting out the trash, but Moony had stopped short when the door closed, not making any attempt to pursue her into the kitchen. 

He could hear Snape hyperventilating. Maybe he was remembering the werewolf lunging at him, a classmate trying to kill him. Moony had been livid at the sight of Snape. Though, all it had taken to dissuade him was the sound of James’ voice.

Sirius transformed in his arms. Padfoot nudged James’ nose with his own and ducked out of the hug. He walked cautiously toward Snape.

Snape’s mind appeared to be on an entirely different planet, his eyes were glassy and did not focus on the dog. Sniffing him carefully, Padfoot eased forward. Prodding Snape’s chin up with his snout, Padfoot sat down between Snape’s legs and leaned against the panicking boy. The closest the dog could manage to a hug was tucking his muzzle over a thin shoulder.

Slowly, one hand fell from Snape’s own hair to fist tightly in Padfoot’s thick, curly fur. The second hand twisting in his coat pulled a little whimper-whine from the dog’s throat, but Padfoot didn’t move an inch. Snape adjusted his grip and hid his face in the dog’s shaggy fluff.

James waited, but neither Snape nor Padfoot moved. Minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty-five. On the half-hour, James forced his frozen legs to work. He stood and picked up a hot-chocolate and the butterbeer from the rim of the planter box just next to Snape’s head.

“Severus,” James whispered, offering both mugs.

Snape looked up, blinking red eyes against the light reflecting too brightly off the snow despite the thick gray sky. He took in the steaming mugs, then James’ face —which he endeavored to make sure showed only simple invitation— and plainly failed to comprehend. James nudged Padfoot away, presenting the mugs more perfectly for selection.

Slowly, _cautiously_ , Snape reached for the hot chocolate. He stared at it, cradled between his hands, like it was a rare baby hoo-hoo bird and not something they had bought for a few knuts three streets over.

Sirius flopped into the snowdrift on Snape’s left. The two of them were red-eyed and haggard, suffering. James offered Sirius the choice of the second hot chocolate or the butterbeer. Wisely, he left James the butterbeer. James sat on the planter box, staring mulishly into the golden liquid. It was ugly in the dark gray wooly cup, but it tasted correct and made him warm. He wanted hot chocolate mounded with whipped cream, but Sirius and Snape _needed_ it. They would be stocking up for Remus later; James would have to settle for a bar of Honeydukes Best. Sirius was likely to be sour on the Broomsticks for a few weeks, anyway.

“What did you tell Frank?” Sirius asked dully, wiping peppermint sugar and whipped cream from the end of his nose. Sullenly, he licked his thumb.

Suddenly desperate to make his mouth busy, James tipped back the rest of his disappointing butterbeer.

“I told him that I had been collecting moonbloom leaves from the hot house when I ran into the two of you. I thought you were following me, and you thought I was following you. While we were fighting, Peter switched the moonbloom leaves for betony leaves.”

“No wonder he was so angry,” James said at the same time Sirius said, “Should he not have done?”

James froze, staring.

 _“Why?”_ Snape asked suspiciously, side-eyeing Sirius.

“We—” Sirius stopped, his nose wrinkling, “ _He_ put crushed betony flowers in that tea cannister you had in your bag last week during herbology.” Sirius worried his fingers inside the mitten-handle. “I thought it was really weird.”

James could feel his eyebrows flirting with his hairline as he gaped at his best friend. “Where were you when we made ghost repellent?”

Sirius’ eyes rolled skyward as he tried to recall. “First potion of third year? I was in the hospital wing.” Suddenly, he went very still. He turned sharply to Snape. “A horde of ghosts carried you in.”

Snape’s lips were pressed together so hard they had disappeared. He had stopped looking at them, but he nodded.

“That was from betony?” Sirius goggled. “Holy hell.” He gave Snape a revisionist stare, then jolted. “Peter could have _killed_ you!”

To James shock, a tear dripped onto Snape’s cheek. Then another, and another, until a slow rain was falling. He stared straight ahead, blankly and at length. 

Was he seeing himself die over a cup of tea?

“SNAPE!” a boy’s voice shouted from the far end of the street. It belonged to Regulus Black. Sirius leapt up to intercept his brother. Snape did not move, not even to scrub the incriminating tears from his face.

“What do you want, Reg?” Sirius asked, defensively.

“Not _you_ ,” Regulus replied with hostility. “Get out of the way.”

Sirius got as much in his little brother’s way as he could. “ _What do you want?”_

“The house-elves are ransacking Slytherin house. Something about Severus and poison.”

“Peter did it.” Sirius growled. “Betony in Snape’s white tea tin.”

Regulus went very still, suspicion radiating from him. “How do you know Pettigrew did it?”

“I saw him. Betony tea is a curative. I didn’t know Snape was allergic.” Sirius crossed his arms. “Sure explains why he wanted to.”

“How did you _not know_ Severus is allergic to betony!” Regulus flailed dramatically. “The _whole school_ saw it!”

“ _I_ was in the hospital wing, delirious!” Sirius shouted back. “Turns out even Madam Pomphrey has trouble healing the burns from grandfather’s ashwinder cane!”

“Ugh, fine.” Regulus spun on his heel. “I’ll tell them where to find it.” He stalked away.

They watched him go until he turned the corner, and then a little longer.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said when he returned to the planter box, much deflated. “I’m glad you didn’t drink any of it.”

“Mulciber broke my teapot,” Snape said, party to the world again, though he sounded emotionally void. “Your grandfather beat you?”

“My mother.”

“My father.” Snape drained the cold hot chocolate from his To-Goat Mug. “Parents suck.”

James knew better than to say anything about how wonderful his parents were, but he hugged the knowledge close to his heart. “Why don’t we get out of here?” He charmed the three empty mugs clean and vanished the broken one.

The walk back to the main street was silent except for their footsteps squeaking in the new-falling snow.


	8. Chapter 8

James had expected Peter to be keeping Remus company in the hospital wing when they arrived, but the smaller boy was not there. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. 

He also wasn’t surprised to find Remus sleeping. The full moon really took it out of them all, but it completely drained Remus, of his magic, too. He used to spend the day after virtually comatose, but the clandestine presence of the marauders seemed to help some. It was all they could do, and it was never enough, but it soothed the gaping hole in James’ conscience to know that they had made it through another full moon without bloodshed, despite their unexpected company. Straightening the blankets with his free hand, James vowed: we _will_ find a way to fix lycanthropy. Someday.

“C’mon,” Sirius said behind him.

James turned to see Snape skulking in the hallway, peering around the doorjamb with one eye. His usually sallow complexion had gone flour-white and his hair was clinging to his ears, damp with sweat. It seemed Severus was more afraid of Remus-the-boy than of Moony-the-Werewolf.

“C’mon,” Sirius repeated. “He’s not going to lick you again.”

Severus shook his head, eyes white all the way around. His gaze jumped around the room, not even seeming to see Remus. Finally, he settled for staring at Sirius’ hands. Spreading those hands, Sirius returned the stare, confounded. But he had broken Snape’s concentration, sending his eyes jumping, again. They stopped, this time, on the door to the nurse’s office.

“She’s not here,” said Remus’ groggy voice. “What did you two do to him, James?”

“Nothing!” James and Sirius jolted guiltily. It was the truth, but somehow James still felt responsible for Snape’s fear.

“It’s not our fault he’s scared of the hospital wing!” Sirius gestured broadly between Snape’s terrified countenance and the room. 

Except that it likely was. 

“We put him in here often enough.” James felt again like his bones were melting. 

But why would Snape be more afraid of the room than them? He had spent all day with them gamely enough. 

_‘Something about Snape and poison.’_

_‘Betony in Snape’s white tea tin.’_

Drawing his wand, James included as much of the immediate area as he could with the charm. “ _Scourgify_.”

Sirius gave him a withering look. “I think that’s been done.” He drew his own wand and pointed it at the empty bed they had occupied that morning. “ _Eiecto veneniflora_.” He turned the wand on himself.

“Why would you _ever_ need to know that spell?” Remus asked as it was cast over him and his accommodations. Sirius’ only answer was to cast once more at James. “Alright.” Grunting quietly, Remus pushed himself up to sitting. He pierced Severus with a look he had lifted straight off Mrs. Norris. “I won’t ask if you have tea with us.”

And tea appeared. Chicken tea and bland crackers because Madam Pomfrey refused to understand that Remus wasn’t sick. 

“I don’t bite during daylight.” Remus smirked wickedly. “Unless you ask nicely.”

Severus continued to lurk in the doorway, but he wasn’t hiding behind the wall any longer.

“Oh!” James said too brightly. “You’ll never guess what Severus found in Honeydukes.” The caramel chickens in the bag James was carrying had taken up roost over clutches of toasted marshmallow eggs. The one he grabbed was none to happy to be picked up and deposited on Remus’ spanking clean blanket. It flapped and squawked. With a few menacing scrapes of its feet, the confection rushed James, pecking viciously at the bag. 

“Ow!” James hopped away as Remus grabbed for the furious candy hen. “Bloody bird, those are my fingers!”

Sirius doubled over, howling with laughter. “James,” he wheezed, “James! Do it again!”

“Prat.” James smacked Sirius upside the head with his bleeding hand.

An arm suddenly rummaged in the bag. James looked up, expecting to see Peter, but it was Snape. There was something soft about his eagle eyes. While they hadn’t been looking, he had quietly ventured away from a quick escape, allowing the heavy door to fall gently shut. He stepped back with a handful of the eggs. Before James could crow victory over Snape’s deeply ingrained sense of ignobility, the Slytherin placed his handful on the bed.

Of course. Why take anything for himself when he could give it to an edible chicken?

James replayed that sentence in his head half a dozen times.

They really had read Severus wrong all these years.

Remus blinked, releasing the caramel chicken. It gave him a scornful peck and rushed for its adopted brood. Snape watched the bird while Remus watched him. James could see the realization dawning on the third marauder’s face. After a moment, Remus smiled softly at Severus, who didn’t see it at all. “Sirius, will you pour the tea?”

Once again pureblood tight and mum, Sirius retrieved the tray from the nightstand and climbed onto the bed next to Remus’s knee. He poured, offering the first cup to Remus. The second cup went to Severus. Snape accepted cautiously, going very stiff and awkward next to the bed.

James enlarged the bed enough for four before climbing on and accepting his liquid meat. “C’mon, Severus.” He grasped for a convincing reason. “If you don’t sit down, the ice mice will get away.” Dumb reason.

But apparently good enough because Severus climbed gingerly onto the bed.

Knowing that the intense awkwardness would eventually stifle them if they continued sitting and sipping and silencing themselves, James overturned the brown paper bag of sweets.

The caramel chickens had apparently committed cuppecide; one of the ice mice tumbled out of the bag limp, gouged, eviscerated, and partially beheaded. The four of them stared at it in varying states of shock. 

Finally, Sirius reached over, burying the peppermint rodent under a stack of Brittle Balls. “Now I lay me down to sleep, a bag of peanuts at my feet, if I die before I wake, give them to my brother Jake.” The stunned silence resumed, humming uncomfortably over the bed.

Placing a spray of Queen Anne’s Sugar Lace atop the pyre, Severus chanted slowly, “Pie Jesu Domine, dona eis Requiem.”

After a very solemn moment, Remus snorted. Cheeks turning red, he tried and failed to choke back an insensitive bout of snickering.

The little funeral _was_ absurd. 

James snorted. He covered his nose with his wrist, wheezing laughter between his teeth, trying to keep his dignity from slipping away completely. 

Severus grinned hugely, as if taking credit for breaking their composure. He wasn’t wrong either; Sirius’ silly prayer _had_ been funny, but Severus’ undue solemnity was something else. Merlin, who knew he was funny?

Sirius scowled over a smile, fighting hard to look as sour as the popcorn he was vengefully flicking at Severus. Remus whipped Sirius upside the head with a licorice wand. James barked and what the heck was he keeping it in for anyway? Severus turned his cheesy grin on Sirius, catching the next piece of popcorn in his mouth.

“Hey!” Sirius cheered. “Again.” He threw another kernel. Severus, who had started to chuckle, had to lean sharply toward Remus to make the catch. Chewing as demurely as possible, Severus’ cheeks did not give up grinning.

Remus stared at him slack-jawed. “Frolicking Freyja, where have you been hiding? _Why?”_

Tucking his face behind his hair, Severus blushed clear up to his ears. He didn’t answer.

“Bwaak?” one of the chickens asked, waddling over to peer up as Severus’ face. “Bok-bok, bok…” It pecked him gently on the cheek. “BuGAAK!”

Severus snorted. Quickly grabbing the chicken, he folded over it, giggling helplessly. Blindly reaching out a hand, he closed his fist, stopping the other caramel bird in its tracks, inches from the edge of the bed.

James hurriedly cast a confinement charm to keep the animal confections from escaping. At least that was easy enough. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take until Christmas to figure out how to silence the chickens. They were plenty cute now, but James knew they would be wearing on his nerves by morning. Sitting up again and pretending to be composed, Severus plucked the comb right off the hen’s face. He held it out to Remus.

Remus, because he liked to push boundaries just as much as the rest of them, no matter what he tried to tell people, opened his mouth. The world went staticky as James waited for Snape’s tentative tolerance of them to break, but he just popped the bit of candy into Remus’ mouth like it was no big deal.

“Thanks.” Remus grinned cheekily, crunching on the caramel. 

Sirius scowled at back and forth between them. 

Not willing to take a chance on whatever fool thing Sirius was thinking, James flicked his ear.

“Ow!” Sirius barked, jerking around to glare at his attacker.

James shrugged. “That’ll teach you to laugh at my pain.” He grinned ridiculously.

After a moment of incredulous staring, Sirius shook his head, chuckling. “Nutter.” He settled a little closer to Remus and summoned the static electric candy floss filament. Taking a piece, he offered it to Remus, who also took a piece before passing the fluffy ball to Severus with a commanding look.

James took his own piece, slightly apprehensive. “Alright, who’s first?” Expecting deflection and challenges from all parties, James was shocked to see Severus take a large bite.

Snape jolted, making a strange keening noise as he kept his mouth closed by visible determination. “Bad idea, bad idea!” he chanted as soon as he had swallowed. He grabbed a cream carnation, stuffing it in his mouth. He sagged with relief.

Sirius and Remus stared at their own hanks of candy cotton with trepidation, and James shared the sentiment. What the heck was this stuff.

“Bad plan,” Snape said, in the same voice he spoke to potions with. He swallowed a gulp of meat-tea. “Better plan.” Tearing off a piece the size of a sickle, Snape stuck out his tongue and dropped the dangerous candy on it. James stared in horror; what kind of mental case went back for more of that? But the puff of sugar melted away without incident. Severus wiggled his nose. With a grin, he took another, slightly larger, helping. He looked at them and grinned. “Much better plan.”

James felt his tongue drying out and hurriedly closed his mouth. “Alright.” He took a small portion of the confection and opened his mouth. And hesitated. His cheeks grew warmer as everyone stared. How could he possibly be scared of candy? It had to be perfectly safe or they wouldn’t sell it. Still, he hesitated.

Trying to avoid looking at Sirius or Remus, James instead accidentally encountered Snape’s gaze. He quirked a brow and James rushed to drop the candy floss on his tongue. It left a strange buzzing sensation that James did not get to enjoy because _of course_ Sirius had to open his big dumb mouth.

“I can’t tell if Frank is going to like that show. What do you think, Remus?”

James felt his eyebrows hit his hairline. He stared at Sirius in disbelief. What was he _talking_ about? Oh, Merlin, Frank Longbottom in the snow. James dropped his face into his hand. It would be weeks before Sirius let it go.

“I thought you had a crush on Lily?”

James looked up. “What?”

“You,” Snape repeated, “have a crush on Lily.”

“No.” James shook his head. “Kind of hard to have a crush on someone who hates you that much.”

“But you’re always asking her out?” Snape tilted his head, absently picking the pills from the hospital wing blanket. “And flirting with her.”

James shrugged. “She hates it. It’s better than fighting with her.” He picked a tail feather off one of the caramel chickens and twirled it in the light. “I figure it’s fair when she spends all day and all night telling us, me, how terrible we are.” That first dumb conversation on the train, Evans had never gotten over it.

Sometimes you really never got a second chance.

Today was supposed to be fun, James was not about to be the third person to have a breakdown. He was going to finish this conversation with dry eyes if it killed him. He did not ask Snape if he had a crush on Lily, because Severus _was_ giving him a second chance and he did not want to blow it.

Remus had no such compunctions. “Are you and Lily dating?”

Severus snorted. “No.” He took the new wand down from his ear to fiddle with. “I asked her out half a dozen times last year and she… is not interested.” None of them asked what she was.

Adroitly, Remus lifted the wand from Snape’s fingers. Severus let it go, frozen between baffled and wary. “This is beautiful.” Remus examined the wand. “Lily doesn’t know what she’s missing.” He handed it back to Snape, who took it in a white-knuckle grip.

“We got it in town,” Sirius said with undue excitement. “Spriggs is _nuts_.”

Remus smiled encouragingly at Snape. “What core is it?”

Snape looked at the wand in his fist like he was still not quite sure it existed. “Galapagon feather?” And with that the conversation lapsed into safer territory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I really struggled to connect the scenes.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a real chapter, thanks for tolerating "chapter 9". I'll be deleting that shortly.
> 
> I decided to cut down the chapter I needed that information for in order to post something now. So, of course it's dumb short.

Sunday had begun on its usual second-day-post-moon bright spot, with Remus squeezing himself between James and Sirius halfway through breakfast. It used to worry James that Remus needed them to hold him up, but that was years ago and now he was ridiculously proud of his role as trusted bookend. Peter had been sullen but tried to hide it from Remus by telling a slew of jokes that didn’t land because they were, frankly, kind of mean. He had then drained a goblet of pumpkin juice and left the table claiming he was going to study in the library. They all knew it was a lie, Peter couldn’t study to save his life and he hated the library, but they let him go. If he wanted space to work out whatever was bothering him, that was his choice. James, Remus, and Sirius had left shortly after, slowly making their way back to Gryffindor Tower.

“Oh, look,” Sirius said, taking his sixth turn to stop and look out the window. There was a wasset on the nearest dormer, barely visible in its winter white coat, gnawing the head off a positively massive glumbumble. “Saving muggles one misery bee at a time.”

Remus snickered, slow and breathless. “They’re not so bad.”

Wrapping a steadying arm around his waist, Sirius grinned fondly at Remus. “Nothing ever is.”

Stopping every few windows did make the trip take an inordinately long time, but James didn’t mind. Caring for Remus was easy, easy as breathing. He inhaled the scent of frost, crystalized in beautiful patterns. It was amazing that something so intricate could happen for no reason at all. The things they saw on walks like this were the tiny, everyday marvels that made him feel like he could reach out and touch magic itself. 

James leaned away from the glittering diamond panes in the window to find Sirius once again stiff as a board next to Remus. He knew he should, knew that waiting would only make it worse, but James just could not bring himself to tell Remus, even though he clearly knew something was up. James needed to tell Remus, and they all needed to tell Dumbledore, but Severus wasn’t here to speak for himself, and that just wasn’t fair.

The mystical spell of frosted windows and tiny black eyes blinking out of the snow was still strong. James couldn’t ruin this. And he was sure down to his bones that Severus had to be there when they told Remus, or it was going to go desperately wrong. This was not the time.

Remus read something on his face and smiled understanding. “C’mon. I want a shower.” Setting off at a pained but determined pace, Remus let them have their time.

“He knows,” Sirius said miserably.

“He’s giving us time,” James countered. It was meant to be reassuring, but Sirius clearly wasn’t feeling the wonderous magic of the day like James was. “Relax a little, or he might change his mind.”

By the time they reached their dorm, snow was falling from the silver sky. Remus disappeared into the bathroom, leaving an exhausted trail of laundry. Sirius cleaned up after him while James fed the little pot-belly stove that heated their shared room. The fire was roaring when Remus returned, damp and wrapped in a towel that he threw at the communal laundry basket after climbing under his sheets. He missed, but the house elves rarely misunderstood the intention.

James fished a roll of parchment and a quill out of his bag. “Budge up,” he told Remus, climbing onto the bed next to him. “Severus needs a new teapot.”

“Severus?” Remus looked very skeptical. “Since when is he ‘presents-for-Severus’ Snape?”

“Since he agreed to keep your secret.”

“Oh.” Leaning his head on James shoulder, an unwelcome tension melted out of Remus. “Are you going to fold him one out of parchment?”

“ _No_.” James rolled his eyes as hard as he could. “I’m going to ask my parents to send one. We have all kinds of old tea sets. And Severus will probably be happier if we don’t spend any more money on him today.”

“I know what you two can be like.” Remus gave Sirius a speaking stare.

Hesitantly, Sirius approached the bed, cautiously climbing on. “Yeah, well, it’s a long story.”

“Is it?” Remus pulled Sirius against his side, and they both settled to watching James wrestle with the words on his parchment. “Tell me anyway.” And Sirius did.

The story sounded fantastical retold. James let the tale wash over him, biting his lip when Sirius skipped straight from the confrontation with Evans to Honeydukes. Not today. And it wasn’t like James wanted to relive the series of breakdowns they had endured yesterday, either. Merlin, was it only yesterday?

Remus interrupted every so often to ask for clarification, or to correct James’ grammar. Finally, it was only the letter left to talk about and they had come to the point where James had to ask for what he wanted. Unfortunately, he felt compelled to sell it to his parents the same way he was going to sell it to Severus, as if somehow the teapot were a burden to the Potter family and parting with it was best for everyone.

It was stupid. His parents liked to help, they would help in a second without even thinking about it, so it really was stupid. It took an hour. But between the three of them, they found the words. James rolled up the letter and climbed out of Remus’ bed. He had to owl this before he lost his nerve. He shoved his feet into his shoes, forcibly not thinking about how nice it would be to stay bundled up with Sirius and Remus for a nap.

The hallways were frigid. James hurried along, eager to be back in the warmth of Gryffindor tower. He was going to shove his freezing feet between Sirius’ calves when he got back and see just how high he jumped. Unfortunately, it was a long walk and no amount of speed let James outpace one last niggling worry.

Stopping on the stairs to the owlery, he unfolded the parchment, adding a quick post-script to the bottom: _Mum, Dad, I don’t think anyone has been taking care of Severus for a really long time. I know we missed Christmas, but there must be some other excuse to give him things. Just… little things, things he should already have, like socks and toothbrushes and stuff. Any ideas?_


End file.
